Fantasies Realized
by bluedawn01
Summary: An old favorite: a doped up Doctor confesses his fantasies to a surprised and amused Rose and she sets about showing him just how to make those fantasies into a reality.
1. Chapter 1

Rose managed to maneuver him back onto his bed with the towel and his modesty (mostly) still intact and with what she thought had been an admirable lack of muttering about his being a careless alien git. She settled the semi-conscious Time Lord down and climbed onto the bed to pull the duvet over him when his eyes suddenly flashed open, looking her straight in the eye. She froze, a hairsbreadth away from him, and then his arm moved around her waist to pull her closer.

"Mmm...hello, Rose," he murmured, moving to rest his forehead against her shoulder and she froze once more, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Err...hello," she replied, shifting a bit and trying to release his grip on her waist and move off the bed and, thus, off the Doctor.

The Doctor made a very surprising and, if she was being rather honest - which she decidedly was NOT at the moment - rather arousing sound of appreciation making her freeze her movements again, now crouched over his thighs. That must have been a groan of pain. It couldn't have been a groan of...anything else. He was still in pain, somehow.

Right?

"This is one of my favorite fantasies," he said, in slightly slurred speech, pulling back to lean against the pillows, eyes closed once again.

"Is it?" she responded, confused and trying to decipher what he meant. Trying to get himself killed by a toxic chemical? Ruining his favorite suit? Being drug back to the TARDIS half-alive and babbling by a frantic Rose? Because none of those things sounded very fantastic to her.

"Yep," he responded, popping the 'p' and sending a wave of warm, aspirated air over her face as he leaned forward toward her. "Me just lying here naked, you on top of me and us...hmm, you're usually naked, too," he frowned, looking a little confused when he opened his eyes as a wandering hand moved to her (clothed) bum.

Well, that certainly cleared up what he meant.

When she didn't say anything in response (surprised squeaks didn't count as 'saying anything' and she was far too busy gaping at him like a loon anyway) or move at all, he fell heavily back onto the pillows, jostling her a bit. "Roooose," he whined, looking up at her with what she suspected he thought were large doe-eyes however his doped up state failed to convey that quite as well as he usually did. When that didn't work, he looked at her with such surprising clarity she was almost sure the drug was gone. "C'mon, then!"

When she still didn't move or make any attempt to say anything, he frowned at her once more. "You're off your game tonight, Rose," he complained. "We're usually having sex by now."

Ok. So it wasn't gone.

Rose tried to keep back a choke on those words. "Well, you're sick," she tried, attempting to climb off him again but his hands had moved from groping her bum in a surprisingly familiar way to the backs of her thighs.

"Where are you going?" he complained again. "If I'm sick then you should take care of me," the Doctor said, his voice dropping down low as he caressed the word 'care' and simultaneously brushed his thumbs along the inside of her thighs. "Or are you going to make me take care of this myself?" he asked, wriggling his hips slightly and then moving to trace his hands up the front of her thighs and grasping slightly to keep her in place and oh, she looked down. Hard not to, what with the wriggling and the, oh (another squeak)...By 'this' apparently he meant the sizeable erection she could see tenting the skimpy little towel around his waist.

She sputtered again, and this time successfully retreated off the bed to the relative safety of the armchair beside it and buried her face in her hands. "I'm just going to sit right here. Over here. Far from...ummm...from your...I mean from...uh...you and keep an eye on you from over here," she managed. She should leave. She ireally/i should leave but if he needed her...if the drug in his system made something worse...He'd warned her before he passed out that it might get worse. She wouldn't let him down. He had stuck with her through some embarrassing situations before and she wouldn't abandon him now.

She also would never, ever mention this again.

Or forget it. Oh, her treacherous mind was filing away every single little detail of this (as it had in the shower earlier) for future fantasies of her own.

"Oh, so you want to watch, eh?" he said, snickering slightly. "Kinky. We've not done that before. Huh. Wow. Something we haven't done before. You found something we haven't done before, Rose! That's why I like you so much. Always thinking of wonderful things I miss. You're brilliant!" the Doctor said, beaming up at her with one his brightest, biggest grins, the same one he gave her when she pronounced the name of a planet correctly or, you know, spotted the London Eye right behind him. She was never going to be able to see that grin again in the same light.

"We have a very active sex life in my head, Rose," he informed her, factually. "But why would I need to tell you that? You're here, in my head, with me! Oh," he moaned suddenly and Rose shot from her seat, thinking that might have been a pained moan. "Oh, Rassilon, that would feel incredible, Rose. You in my head. It's so lonely up there most of the time but you...you fill that loneliness up. Have I ever told you that? You fill up my loneliness here," he tapped his temple, "and here," he laid a hand over each heart. She was stunned by that sudden revelation. That had to be one of the sweetest things he'd ever said to her and he was doped up beyond coherent thought.

Another sudden, apparently brilliant thought came to his mind, if the wicked smile that appeared and displaced the sweet expression that had been there meant anything. "Does that mean I get to watch, too?" he rumbled in a low, sexy voice that Rose thought should absolutely not be allowed. Especially not with an adorable, almost-naked Doctor whose eyes were currently fixed on a portion of her anatomy that she was fairly certain had never been examined quite so closely, especially fully clothed. "Fair's fair, Rose Tyler," he finished and a thrill of heat inadvertently shot through her at those words. How could a man saying her name possibly do that to her?

His nostrils flared slightly and then he smirked, looking quite satisfied with himself. "That's more like it," he said cockily and speaking of cockily, Rose tried to ignore the way his hand had drifted down to the sizable bulge in his towel.

He stroked nonchalantly over his cotton covered length as he watched her blush mightily and try to keep her eyes on his face. "You're bl-ush-ing, Rose Tyler," he said purposefully, enunciating each part of the word, waiting for the flush of heat to shoot through her again and, when it did, he pressed the heel of his hand down harder, eliciting a groan that made him close his eyes momentarily. "Not that I don't enjoy, oh," he stopped a moment and did whatever he'd just done to get that feeling again, "Oooohhh, watching you blush, because I do. I like watching the way the heat traces down your body from your cheeks to your chest. I like the way it flushes your beautiful breasts, Rose." His eyes travelled from her face down to linger on said breasts which were hidden behind her (oh) wet from the shower, white tshirt.

Speaking to them now, apparently, since his eyes hadn't moved back upward he continued, "Usually I just have to imagine what your blush looks like going down because you wear those hoodies and I can't see," he pouted up at her for moment before tracing his gaze back down to her breasts once again. "But sometimes you wear those idresses/i," he shifted slightly and moaned, closing his eyes.

Dresses, noted some traitorous part of Rose's brain. Must wear more dresses.

"Like Cardiff," he panted as his hand started to move faster (not that she was watching or noticing). "That was a brilliant dress. I loved that dress. Wanted to tear it right off you, which was very, very surprising to poor stodgy, leather me, but I loved it just the same. I wanted a lot of things back then, just didn't know how to deal with them. Know what I mean?" the Doctor asked, opening his eyes and looking at her, obviously waiting for a response even as his hand kept stroking.

Rose tried to make words, any words come out. Cardiff? He'd wanted her way back in Cardiff? He returned some of those fantasies? Like the one where she eased those black jeans down his narrow hips right there in the control room and dropped to her knees...damn. He'd distracted her. And he'd asked her a question if his bright, focused eyes meant anything. "Ummm...that you like to watch me blush," she stammered. She was blushing now and panicking and rooted to the spot. How was she ever going to get out of this?

"Yes, Rose Tyler, I do. It's one of the many, many things I like watching you do. But right now, I'd much rather watch. you. come," he finished, thrusting upward with each of those words.

Rose felt her cheeks flush again. She'd never imagined that he would be so...dirty. Talkative, yes. When wasn't he? But...

Anyway, this had to stop. Obviously whatever it was that had been in that sludge he'd gotten doused with had apparently not only been poisonous (hence her dousing him in the shower) but also an aphrodisiac and apparently hallucinogen of some kind and this most certainly fell into the category of 'taking advantage'.

And really, really arousing.

But the taking advantage part, that she couldn't deal with.

"Doctor," she started, biting her lip. His eyes were instantly fixed on that lip and he let out another helpless little groan. She released it immediately but his hand had slipped under the towel already, pulling it away and giving up on the cotton barrier at the sound of his name coming from her lips and Rose kept her eyes studiously focused on his right ear, the one he pulled at so often. "Doctor, you've got to stop. Until you're, um, feeling better," she tried, looking up at the ceiling now. She was going to have to run away here in a minute.

"Don't wanna stop," he grunted, adding his other hand to the mixture, cupping his balls and pulling slightly as he imagined she might do. As she did do in his many fantasies. "Feels good. So good."

Rose coughed. "If you don't stop, Doctor, I'm going to have to leave," she said, frantically, closing her eyes. She needed to get out of this room right now, actually and perhaps into a shower of her own. She got up from her chair and prepared to bolt but a small whimper, and not a whimper she might have expected from him considering what his hands had been doing, came from him.

A hand, the left one, luckily, not the slightly sticky right one, closed over hers and she opened her eyes to see him suddenly sitting up on the edge of the bed staring at her with desperate eyes, any of his previous activities forgotten in the terror displayed there now. "Please, don't," he whispered. "Please don't leave me. I need you. I'm sorry. I'll do better. Whatever it is, I'm sorry. I can make you happy, I swear. Whatever you want, Rose, I'll do it. Don't leave me." To Rose's surprise, there were tears in his eyes and fear shining out at her from those luminous brown orbs.

Shocked, she studied him. What was this about? Oh, he must have thought she meant...

No. She would never leave him.

He sounded so lost and broken, like a little boy and not like the man she was so used to seeing. These brown eyes rarely shown at her with the vulnerability that the blue used to on occasion. In that moment, Rose forgot that he was naked and drugged and aroused and she threw herself into a hug with him, which he returned fiercely, making a small sobbing sound at her shoulder. "Don't leave me," he whispered again, and she rocked him slightly, whispering assurances and promises she meant with her whole solitary human heart. Painful as that had been for him and painful as it was for her to see him like that, at least it had distracted him from...well, his other activities.

"Forever, Rose. You said forever. You promised," he said reverently into her hair, sounding awed. "Stay. Please stay." She then heard a slight snore from him and felt him slump as he drifted off against her and she sighed. Well, now what?

Disentangling herself from his embrace (much as she didn't want to) and laying him down gently, she looked at him with as much clinical detachment as she could manage. Especially while she was admiring his solid chest, wiry but muscular, his tight stomach, the light drifting of hair on his chest and leading down to his still frankly magnificent... Stop it, stop it, stop it.

Well, to keep him from being completely embarrassed when he woke up (assuming he wouldn't remember any of this - and she really, really hoped he wouldn't remember any of this), she needed to wipe off his hand and er...well, discard the towel and at least pull up the duvet. Dressing him might wake him up and touching him too much might prove to be too much of a temptation on her already tenuous self-control. Ok, then.

Be an adult, Rose, she chided. Be a good best mate. Wipe off his hand and...er...the rest of him and do not ogle his still aroused, magnificent manly Time Lord bits.

Well, a bit late for that. More fantasy fodder, then.

She pulled the duvet up over his torso, chucked the towel the laundry bin and returned to her chair to watch him over him.

-

The Doctor woke up two hours later from a very restful healing coma. With his eyes still closed, he gingerly did an internal examination of himself and determined that everything was back in tip-top shape and he was pleased about that. That had been a close call. He'd not expected any of those chemicals to actually be toxic to him and when they had...well, it was just a good thing he had Rose to depend on and that she hadn't been affected and that the TARDIS hadn't been very far away.

His organs were all functioning properly once more, his cardiovascular system had fully recovered and his brain patterns had returned to normal. There was still quite a bit of...oh, hmm. That was curious. There were a number of biochemicals still in his system that indicated he had recently been aroused and not...er...satisfied (very aroused judging by the sheer amount of them swirling around) , but that could be taken care of in fairly short order with a real shower and some well-placed thoughts of Rose.

Being in an almost perpetual state of arousal seemed to just be part of daily life with this new body around Rose (oh, who was he kidding? His last body had been like this too) and so he'd gotten quite good at taking care of himself with an every growing library of creative Rose-fantasies.

Rose. He hoped she was all right. This whole thing must have given her quite a fright. She'd been amazing, dealing with the threat, getting him back to the TARDIS, talking through what she needed to do for him, what he remembered of her doing before they got to the shower, anyway. After his second shower now, he'd arrange to take them somewhere brilliant. Somewhere Rose would really enjoy. And somewhere she'd wear a dress. He smiled lazily to himself as that began to stir up exactly what he needed to expel those pesky biochemicals. Yep...shower time.

He'd swung his legs over the side of the bed and moved to get rid of the duvet when he opened his eyes to...Rose.

Directly in front of him.

He squeaked, yep, squeaked. That was embarrassing. "Rose! What, er, what are you doing in here?"

"You're ok!" she said leaning forward to hug him and then stopping in a rush and blushing furiously. Which is when the Doctor discovered that he was naked and there was only a small corner of the duvet covering him from being very embarrassed. He hastily moved more of the duvet to his lap to cover the beginning evidence of what thinking about her in a dress (and being naked and half a meter from her) did to him and he flushed a bright red. "You asked me to stay with you," Rose answered, choosing to act nonchalant but noting his delightful blush (he was right - that was pretty fun to watch).

"Did I?" he asked vaguely in a voice much higher pitched than his normal one. He couldn't really remember what had happened when they got back to the TARDIS.

Studying him carefully, Rose let out a small sigh of relief. Good. He didn't remember anything. "Did I, um, did I ask you anything else?" he said, tentatively, testing the waters. Because, if the sheer amount of arousal chemicals in his system were any indication, he might very well have asked her a whole lot of things.

iYou mean did you ask me to have sex with you and then ask if you could watch me wank? Followed by a very sweet revelation, you giving me a bit of a show and then me freaking you out? Yes, yes you did,/i Rose said silently in her head. What she said out loud was "Nope," popping the 'p' for effect.

"Right. Good. So...I'll just, um..." he stared at her as she didn't move from the chair. "Well, I'm fine now, thanks to you anyway, and I'm just going to get a shower and put on some clothes so I'm not um, na- unclothed, anymore." He started as that came out of his mouth. If he was here and he was naked...and he hadn't been when they'd started back to the TARDIS..."How, er...how did I get unclothed, Rose?" the Doctor asked, not looking her in the eye.

"I had to strip your clothes off," Rose said matter-of-factly. At least she hoped matter-of-factly. And grinning to herself that the alien who could talk for all of England couldn't say 'naked' out loud. "That toxin had eaten away most of the fabric of your suit, anyway. Good thing you didn't wear your brown coat today."

All of the Doctor's embarrassment was forgotten for moment as he considered THAT. A horrible, horrible thought that was. He loved that coat! Janis Joplin gave him that coat! Then he remembered what they had been talking about and Rose watched as he flushed again.

She coughed. "Nothing I haven't seen before," she replied, waving dismissively (DISMISSIVELY? his mind cried) and vaguely toward his waist at him. "Although the Superman pants were a surprise. I always figured you were more of a Batman guy."

"What?" he managed.

"You know, Batman. Broody superhero with a beltful of gadgets and the coolest lair ever? The Batcave? Totally bigger on the inside."

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant...and there is nothing wrong with my superhero pants. Although, if you must know, I have a full set of the members of the Justice League. When have you...erm...I mean seen me...um?"

"Well, who do you think undressed you at Christmas? It wasn't Mum. She thought you had tentacles," Rose said, grinning at him and, oh Rassilon, sticking her tongue in her teeth. If he hadn't been so busy being offended by her apparent dismissal of his manliness (and, honestly, hadn't they gone through this in his LAST body? 'I mean, men' honestly. Why did she think he had such an obsession with being manly this time around? Rose Tyler really knew how to give a bloke a complex) he might have remembered what that little tongue-in-teeth gesture usually did to him and that wasn't when he was sitting on his bed, naked, with her so close to him, talking about undressing him.

His subconcious and his libidio, however, had no such distractions. Annnndd, he immediately needed to get rid of Rose before she noticed the large, hard problem that he couldn't quite cover up. "Yes, yes, ummm. Well, now I'm fine, you're fine, everyone's fine, really and so off you go. Shower and a change, Rose! Dinner someplace fancy, don't you think? Escaping death by dangerous neurotoxins calls for a smashing night out."

"Ok," Rose said, slowly, getting up from her chair and walking toward the door. He breathed a sigh of relief once she was out of sight and shifted slightly to throw off the duvet and get into a very quick and, from necessity, probably cold, shower. Suddenly Rose's head stuck back into his door and he yelped and scrambled for the duvet.

"Doctor?" Rose inquired innocently.

"Yes?" he asked, willing his voice back down into its normal tenor.

"Fancy...does that mean I should wear something nice? A dress, maybe?" she inquired innocently.

He coughed and looked away. "Yes, ah," he squeaked. "A dress. A dress would be good, Rose," he got out, eventually and then sighed in relief as she shut the door and flounced away.

He threw back the duvet and stretched, enjoying the buzz of arousal in his system.

Definitely time for that shower.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor made his way into the ensuite as quickly as he could, walking a bit uncomfortably and reached in to turn on the tap. Sticking a hand in the water and waiting for it to warm up a bit, he let his other hand linger on his stomach, massaging lightly and thinking back to the last time he'd been in this shower just a few hours ago with Rose.

He didn't remember much about the trip back the TARDIS...he had been babbling at her, trying to give her instructions on how to help him while at the same time fighting down the desperate fear that he might regenerate. He liked this body. Rose seemed to like this body. He didn't want to go yet. Forgetting the shower a moment, he raised his eyes to study his reflection in the large mirror over his sink. It was a good body, that was for certain. His long, lean legs were built for running, strong calves and tight thighs. His hips and waist were a bit narrow, but he didn't mind. bit skinny, perhaps but certainly better than the alternative. He had a light smattering of almost-ginger hair across his chest and leading down to his groin and he was pale and freckle-covered. The arms and chest of this body were wiry and lean, not muscular like his last, but there was some definition in the abdominal muscles that he rather fancied.

Raising the damp from the shower hand to his head, he ran his long fingers through his soft hair, willing the errant strands back into their normal outrageous heights. Great hair. This was some really great hair. Rose had told him that once. He drug his fingernails slightly over his scalp, imagining Rose's fingers doing that for him and felt his already stiff cock twitch in answer. The other hand, still lightly massaging his lower stomach just shy of his stiff length, drifted a little closer as he watched, entranced, in the mirror.

Letting out a hiss of pleasure, he drew his fingers up the underside from his testicals to the tip then wrapped the hand fully around it, feeling the heavy weight in his hand. Long and thick, it was definitely his best yet and he had no illusions as to why that was. Rose would probably laugh at him if she knew. He'd never exactly been a slouch in this area (well, except his sixth body, but he tried not to remember much about that time in his life), even if he'd very rarely ever used it (especially in his early days), a bloke was still a bloke and, as she often reminded him, he'd always had an ego the size of a small planet. And what bloke, with even the smallest control over it, wouldn't want to have impressive equipment?

Watching himself in the mirror, he lazily wrapped a fist around himself and pushed forward, fascinated by its disappearance and reappearance. His mind immediately went to watching that same dance except into Rose's small, hot human hand and his own fisted tightened automatically. He groaned slightly and changed the pressure again, imagining instead pumping in and out of her warm heat as she writhed below him. Or as he bent her over backward and watched himself disappear over and over again just below those perfect, soft orbs of her bum. Oh, fuck. His grip tightened into the hard, punishing strokes he'd favored a lifetime ago. That had been his last body's favorite fantasy. Just bending her over the nearest piece of furniture and making her scream, making her forget bloody Adam. Or Jack. Or Mickey. His fist twisted slightly, pulling upward and to the side and shit, that was good.

His eyes fell shut a moment and he switched the fantasy...he could push between her lovely breasts...massage them, let their wonderful heat cradle him and each thrust would bring him closer to her lovely, hot mouth...His eyes flew open then and his fist began moving faster with a deep groan of pleasure. Oh, he liked that. This 'oral fixation' as she'd once called it to him (and nearly made him come at the idea) worked both ways apparently. He wanted to taste her, to lick and suck her until she couldn't remember her own name and he wanted her to do it for him. Her wet mouth would envelop him, her tongue would flick him just there, he used his thumb to draw across the already very slippery tip, pressing just enough to make him squirm. Oh, Rassilon and she would be wet...so wet...

The pounding of water suddenly reached his ears and he opened his eyes in the very steamy shower room. He's almost forgotten why he'd come here in the first place. The water felt heavenly as he stepped into the downpour, the soft, insistent pattering hitting his aroused nerve endings delightfully. The Doctor's hand immediately fell back to its previous position, sliding wetly from base to tip in a frantic motion, desperate for release. His other hand slipped down to cup himself, squeezing and pulling as he imagined Rose's blonde head bobbing up and down on him, taking more and more of him, sometimes turning to the side so he hit her cheek, sometimes hollowing those lovely cheeks and sucking until he moaned.

He was close, so close. Then he thought of her right now, getting dressed for an evening out with him, with only him. A dress, she'd said. He pictured one in his mind...bright red, oh that would be be lovely. Tight. And low cut so he could see her magnificent breasts, so he could make her blush all evening just to watch that blush descend her chest. There. That's what he wanted. An evening of teasing and tension, his knee brushing hers under the table, her fingers dancing up his thigh. Dancing close to her, pulling her up against him, feeling her gasp as she felt him hard and wanting. Her in that bright red dress with red lipstick that just begged him to take her mouth. They wouldn't have time to get that dress off her. Or him out of his tuxedo. They would barely have time to make it back to the TARDIS. Just a frantic fumble to get his trousers and pants down to his knees (he'd have to remember not to wear superhero pants) and then she'd be on him. He could almost feel the oppressing pull of his cotton trousers at his knees, the delightful stretchy fabric of her dress as his hands moved restlessly from her shoulders through her soft, silky hair trying not to push, not to thrust as her hot mouth massaged his aching cock. And this time he would not to come in her mouth, not so she swallowed him down and licked him clean like she usually did in his fantasies. No. Not this time. At the last moment he'd pull out and...

Crying out incoherently, his tongue pressed hard against the back of his front teeth, he came unbelievably hard into his fist, imagining his seed spreading all over her shapely breasts, claiming her as his, making a sticky mess they'd just have to clean up in here as he put his long tongue to good use...his knees buckled and he shot a hand out to steady himself on the slick shower wall.

Holy Rassilon. That had been one hell of a fantasy. His shaky hand reached out for the flannel to clean up and wash away the residue of that fantasy that would never happen. He tried to ignore the way his body still hummed with satisfaction and the images of her on her knees in that red dress clung to his mind persistently. He need to focus and give Rose a wonderful evening out.

And, well, if he decided to wear a tuxedo, that was his business wasn't it?


End file.
